Death's Sweet Kiss
by Xenra
Summary: A heart for a life, a heart for a kiss, and suddenly it is Death's wish.
1. Part One

**A/N:** Hey there, Xen again! I know, I know. I need to be working on my other two stories...but this idea just hit him like a brick wall and hasn't left me alone since. It's short too, so it won't take long to finish. This is the first part, and there will be one more that I'm already halfway through writing. So...yes, enjoy! Also, I don't own the poem that's used in this. I can't write poetry worth a shit.

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Dying. He was dying. There was no denying it; the rattle and shake of his chest was enough of an answer. In the dark of his room, it was the only sound. Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out. Closer to Death. Further from. Closer to. Further from. Each inhale brought him ever nearer, and yet each exhale tried to undo the damage in his weak body. The fight was a weak one. Both boy and body knew how this would end.

_When death comes  
I'll need not love –  
Consumed,  
No wreath or dove  
Could offer me salvation,  
Not when I'm no more._

In the back of the young boy's mind, he knew he should have told someone. Told them of the pains in his chest, of coughing up blood, of the fevers and the night sweats. But Marik also knew he was loved, and love hurt. He did not want his family to worry over him. It would have been just like with Mother. Countless nights praying and crying over her dying form. Yet he knew they would cry anyways, and that bothered him. They would find his still form in the morning, for he would surely not make it that long (Breathe in. Breathe out. You're dying. You're fading.), and they would weep and shout and curse and he would only be able to watch in heavy silence. He did not want that, did not want his family to suffer on his behalf.

When one of the shadows in his room seemed to detach itself from the others, Marik knew Death had come for him. The silent figure neither scared, nor frightened the boy as it moved closer, and the air froze around him. A hood was thrown back, and Death's pale face swam into view. Crimson eyes pierced the darkness.

_Funny,_ Marik thought idly. _I always thought red was a warm color._

But no, these eyes were colder than any piece of ice, colder than any winter night with its gales and snowstorms, colder, even, than Hell, Marik figured.

White hair cascaded down one shoulder as Death leaned over slightly. He was so familiar, Marik realized. And yet so foreign. He wanted to run his hands through that soft hair, and curl up in this man's arms to sleep, comfortable warm and safe, and yet he felt repulsed by him, sickened almost. Such a strange feeling to want something so badly and yet be repelled by it, loathe it, hate it even.

"You are going to die," Death said softly, neither sad nor happy, caring nor apathetic.

"I know," Marik answered back, never taking his eyes from that scarlet gaze, those ensnaring orbs that bit at him with their frigidity and beckoned with their iciness.

"Are you afraid?" Death's voice was so quiet, yet seemed to echo around the room, and froze everything with its cool touch.

"No. Just sad." It was the truth. It was a lie.

"And why is that?"

"I don't want my family to miss me."

_A weathered stone will bear my name –  
Identity of once a being  
Living out existence in  
A world of risk, and never seeing  
Sense of why we're here._

Both were quiet after that, simply taking each other in. Neither knew what to think of the other; a boy who was not scared of Death and Death himself. What an odd pair to be watching each other in the silence of the night, purple eyes meeting red, the dying and the never living, the young and the ancient, the collector and the collected.

Marik's rattling breath had quieted, no longer spreading his disease with each and every exhale, and in his ears he actually heard the strong beating of his heart, not the quiet pitter patter of one about to give out. He wondered if this was Death's effect on him, making his body strong and healthy right before he was forced to leave it forever. It was sadistic, to give somebody a taste of what they had once had, but had faded, and then to rip it away from them forever, but Marik did not mind. He liked the peace of quiet breathing, the strength of his beating heart, the comfort in his no longer aching chest. It would make dying so much easier. Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out. You're dead. You're dying. You're dead. You're dying.

_When death comes  
I'll need not grace  
Below; no grieving face  
Will call my resurrection,  
Not when I'm at ground –_

"Death, do you have a heart?" he asked, and his voice betrayed nothing and told a story.

The spirit started a little, as if he was not used to being asked such questions, but he shook his head no slowly. His hair swayed with the movement, and Marik was sparked with the same insane sensation of wanting to run his fingers through it.

"Would you allow me to live if I promised you mine?"

Death was silent. He stared, not at the boy, but at the boy's moving chest. His own was empty, devoid of anything and everything. One pale hand reached out to be placed above the boy's heart. Baddump. Baddump. He could feel that pulse, that sign of life, the thing he had never had and never realized he wanted until just now.

The boy shivered under his touch. They all did. He was, after all, not human and so his touch was completely foreign to the young skin. Not human, nor creature, nor spirit really was he. He was Death and death was him and that's all he could ever be considered. But with a heart….with a heart what would he be? And the question scared him. Scared Death because he'd never been offered such a thing in his entire existence.

"I will return for it in nine years," he decided.

Marik nodded. "Nine years, and my heart will be yours." Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out. You're alive. You're dying. You're alive. You're dead.

Death gave him one last glance and a final "Keep it safe for me," before disappearing back into the shadows from with which he came.

_Death and I so bound._

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__So...when writing this I was trying out a new style. Could you tell? It was rather difficult for me, but I think I managed to pull it off.

As always, please review! You know you want to. ;)

**-Xen**


	2. Part Two

**A/N:** Ahahaha. I'm supposed to update Phoenix Pinnarum today...I know. I'm such a bad author. I never keep my promises. But I'll try really hard to get that chapter written later today! (It's almost two in the morning where I'm at.) Anyways, here's the second part to Death's Sweet Kiss. Once again, I hope you enjoy, and once again, I don't own the poem. Don't sue me. I'm broke.

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Quickly and efficiently, he applied the kohl under and around his eyes. It was a tradition in his family to wear the black makeup on special occasions….and this day, this night, this darkest of times was the most extraordinary thing to ever happen to him, so why not celebrate? It was the eve of his nineteenth birthday after all. Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out. He's coming. He's forgotten. He's coming. He's forgotten.

_Death, inevitable Death.  
So now You come to show Your world,  
Hence the blackened cloak – unfurled.  
And peering down upon my form  
– Bereft of pity – Your eyes of storm.  
_

Red eyes and pale skin swam just behind Marik's eyelids. That same face had come to haunt his dreams every night, to torment him, torture him, seduce and use him. He loved and despised it, almost how he wanted and was repelled by the very object of his desire.

Nine years had passed, and still the thought of Death made his heart hammer, made his pulse quicken and his purple eyes widen. All these years he had waited and the time was finally upon him. He'd lived specifically for this day, for this moment, the death of him that excited him beyond reason. Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out. He's not coming. He will be here. He's not coming. He will be here.

_Death, inexorable Death.  
'When? ' The only question out of Thee.  
My dream retorts 'But ne'er for me! '  
But now awake, I bid you so –  
My giving tears cry 'Where to go? '  
_

Pulling away from his family had been simple really, and oh so complicated. Ignore them. Breathe in. Ignore them. Breathe out. Make them not love him. Become a shadow. Be invisible. Pull away. It was a constant pattern that never was the same. And now, he was positive they would not cry over his death. They might be sad, sure, but they would not cry. And that was all that mattered. He was not his Mother. His funeral would be tearless.

Marik turned off his light, brightening the room, and laid down on his bed with a sigh. No sense in worrying over things. He was dressed in his favorite outfit, had made himself up and now only had to wait. Breathe in. Breathe out. Wait. Wait.

_Death, adamant Death.  
You cast Your spell and guide me 'way,  
For life and I have had our day.  
And what of me? I prey You, tell!  
Be glorious in Heaven or gnarled in Hell?_

When next the teen opened his eyes, Death stood over top of him. Watching. Waiting. And once again Marik was drawn to those arctic red eyes. In a passing thought he wondered if they had ever seen any warmth. He decided quickly that they hadn't, and that he would change it.

"Death," he whispered loudly, and reached out his arms for the approaching spirit, entranced by the person he'd only met once and yet knew better than any other.

Death stepped into the embrace, expressionless with emotion. Nine years was nothing to him, he'd never been alive and had been alive forever. Nine years had come and gone so quickly. But at last, he would have what he'd never needed. One pale hand pushed up the shirt Marik was wearing until it could rest upon his chest bare. Thathump. Thahump.

_Death, ineluctable Death.  
Oh wiry ghoul, I'm here to follow –  
I leave my body grey and shallow.  
'Come! ' You bid in thund'ring tones,_

The boy shivered at the touch, so heated and frozen. But he was sad. Death was not here for him. Death was here for his heart. What would he do with it? he wondered. A single heart couldn't provide much more than an everlasting love. But Death did not need love. He was Death. Death was love in the cruelest of forms.

"Will it hurt?" _Please, fix me with that gaze again. Freeze me. Kill me. Take my heart, but just look at me a little longer please. I need you. _

Crimson eyes met his and Marik couldn't help but gasp at the sadness he saw hidden in their mirth.

"No," sighed Death, and leaned down to brush his cool lips against the boy's, as he was just a boy to him after all, no one was older than Death. And just like that Death stole his heart away.

'_Beg farewell to shattered bones.'_

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__Phew. Now that that's out of my system maybe I can get something else accomplished.

Ah, I'm a starving author! Feed me reviews please. =3

**-Xen**


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